


Carry Me Home

by orphan_account



Category: My Chemical Romance
Genre: Drabble, F/M, High School AU, One Shot, but not the same AU, prank
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-10-24
Updated: 2013-10-24
Packaged: 2017-12-30 08:34:24
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1016428
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A separate prank fic to BCS, just a high school au one shot</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carry Me Home

Frank hated catholic school. The teachers sucked, the rules were ridiculous, he wasn’t even a catholic. So every day was an obstacle to be faced, to struggle over and land a little worse for wear on the other side. Of course, the bullies did not help at all- bruised shoulders from being shoved into walls, scuffed shins from being tripped, names called and muttered and yelled or written on paper and thrown at his head. Of course the teachers ignored it, why wouldn’t they? He was just Frank, that pathetic short kid who played in the school band, didn’t quite fit in.

There was one perk to his days at school, however. Art class. Not necessarily the art itself, he kind of sucked at that part, but this girl sat next to him. She didn’t laugh at him, or bitch about him like the other girls. She was an outsider herself. She’d fallen out with her friends last fall (totally their fault, in Frank’s opinion- she’d told him what’d happened in hushed tones during art class)

So they were kind of friends. That was the longest she’d ever spoken to him for, apologising furiously afterwards and leaving the class as soon as she could. That made Frank sad, because it’d been nice to talk beyond the occasional “What’s the date?” or “That’s really good” or the classic, “Can I borrow your pencil?”

He maybe had a crush on her. Maybe being a definitely. She had awesome music taste, she was kind and she was funny, and she had this beautiful long brown hair. He’d never tell her though, of course not. She would reject him, because really who would date _Frank_ of all people, and he’d go back to being lonely and pathetic with an extremely awkward addition to art class.

However, home coming was fast approaching, and Frank was worried she’d have no one to go with. He himself wasn’t worried about getting a date, he’d find a way to bunk off, but he didn’t want her to be lonely. _So_ he thought _why not ask her?_ But the overwhelming wave of doubt and nerves flooded through his head, and he lay his head on the desk with a sigh.

“What’s up?” Patricia whispered, so their boring art teacher wouldn’t hear.

Frank sat up and looked at her, shaking his head before going back to his drawing.

“You can tell me, if you want to, I won’t laugh.”

Frank almost did though- how could he tell Patricia about this whole pathetic dilemma that centred about her?

“It’s okay, it’s nothing.” He whispered back, trying out a smile.

She smiled back, and he thought his heart back-flipped. “Okay” she replied, then she went back to the lilies she was drawing.

~*~

When Frank left the house the next morning, he was decided- he would ask Patricia to homecoming. And when she said no, he would laugh it off and ask if they could pretend it never happened, and she would probably say yes because she was lovely and forgiving, and that would be the end of it.

His decisive and almost cheerful mood was dashed when he was shoved down the stairs going to maths. He rolled to the bottom and lay there, completely winded and wondering if he was paralysed. Faintly, he heard someone calling his name, and then a hand on his shoulder and Patricia gazing down at him, except she was asking him a question? He tried to ask her what she was saying but his words were slurred and didn’t make sense to him. Her pretty face was twisted in panic, but then black started creeping in at the corner of his vision and he didn't remember anything after that.

~*~

Frank woke up in the nurse's office. He liked the nurse, it seemed she was the only kind adult in the whole place. He tried sitting up, but a gentle hand on his shoulder stopped him, and that was  _Patricia's hand_. He remembered being shoved down the stairs, and Patricia appearing out of no where, and then passing out. He groaned and lay back down.

"You knocked your head pretty bad there." She said. "You got a minor concussion actually, it was kind of scary."

Frank lifted his hand to his forehead, to feel a lot of bandages there. "Huh." He said dumbly.

She giggled, and said "Do you remember what you asked me when you woke up, when they were bandaging your head?"

Alarm bells rung all through his head, and he just wanted to get up and run.

"Do you not remember?"

"No."

"You asked me to homecoming. Oh god, you didn't mean to, oh my goodness I'm really sorry." She started to ramble but Frank nervously took her hand.

"I was going to ask you in Art. I thought you were going to say no."

Patricia smiled, and looked down at their entwined hands.

"You'd be good to draw." Frank muttered, rubbing circles on the back of her thumb. He didn't want to draw her, he'd mess it up. She could draw it right though. She could draw him right. He heard her tinkling laugh, and felt the vibrations down her arm and into her hand and into his hand.

"Frank, you're still delirious. I have to leave now, the nurse is giving us weird looks, but I can give you my number?" SHe was still smiling, but now she was a little nervous too.

"Yeah, sure, I'll text you later if I can get my hands to work again."

She smiled and wrote her number on his arm in sharpie, then kissed his forhead before grabbing her bag and dashing out the door.

He grinned to himself, lightly bring his hand up to touch the spot between his eyebrows she'd kissed. He almost wanted to run up to the jerk who'd shoved him down the stairs and hug him, but then his mom was there to pick him up so he contented himself with looking at the numbers scrawled on his arm, smiling to himself the whole way home.


End file.
